I looked at the map and said, “Okay, we’re bumping the kill zone one road to the south. See Kinangop? See where it curves? He hits that and he’ll trail it back to Kangethe and home. Hopefully.”

I looked at Brett. “Start moving. Stage on Joseph Kangethe Road where Kinangop dead-ends into it.”

Jennifer came on. “He just broke out of Adams Arcade. He’s into the Toi Market, and security’s still following. What about him?”

We had maybe three minutes.

She repeated, “What about the security following him?”

“Retro interdicts him. He’s the only one that’s clean. Retro, can you penetrate inside Toi?”

“Yeah. I can get in. I’ll stick out, but that’s not the problem. I take out the security and everybody’s going to see.”

I said, “Retro, don’t take him out. Just stop him. Is he well dressed?”

“Yeah, he’s in a suit.”

“Okay, act like you’re lost. Act like a tourist. Stop him as a nice-looking Kenyan and ask for directions. We only need seconds. Get a gap between him and the target.”

Jennifer said, “And me?”

Brett stopped the van, saying, “We’re here.”

I said, “All elements, we’re staged. Koko, penetrate into Toi with Retro. Split when he moves to the security man. Same profile. Prevent the target from running back the way he came.”

I didn’t want to do that, because a single white female walking around out here was like dropping bloody chunks of meat into shark-infested water. I heard nothing for a moment, then Jennifer said, “Pike, target’s spotted security. He’s getting skittish.”

“Okay, okay, stay on him. Nothing’s changed.”

“He’s speed-walking now. I say again, he’s moving fast through the stalls. He’s headed west, not south.”

My first thought was Abort.

I looked at the map, seeing my plan of action was way off. I said, “He’ll hit Suna Road, then go south. This is it. Retro, interdict security. Jennifer, stick with him. Brett, get up there. Get to the intersection of Suna and Kinangop.”

He goosed the engine and we went flying past our projected kill zone. Knuckles said, “We’re not going to make it in time. He’ll be through the intersection before we get there.”

“Nothing I can do about possibles. We’ll deal with the situation when we get there.” I keyed the radio. “Jennifer, Retro, status?”

Jennifer said, “I lost him in the stalls. He’s headed straight west.”

From Retro, I heard mumbled conversation. He couldn’t talk, and had keyed the mike to let me know he was executing.

Brett raced up Kinangop, luckily the only car on the road, the weak headlights from the van providing barely enough illumination for the speed we were going.

Jennifer called, “I’m on Suna. I see him. He’s running south now. And I mean running.”

Retro came on. “Security’s broken contact. He got sick of me, and he’s moving west.”

Blaine’s orders flicked through my head. The drugs are set. I should really let him go.

I saw the intersection of Suma and Kinangop just as Jennifer called, saying, “He’s going east now. He’s on your road, but I’ve got an issue. Some youths are following me. Closing on me. No idea of their intentions.”

What else can happen? Where’s my luck?

“Retro, get to Koko, now. Break, break, Koko, we’re ten seconds out. Keep moving south. Call if you need help.”

She said nothing, but I could feel her wrath at my words. Knuckles said, “Pike, maybe we should . . .”

Before he could finish his sentence, something flashed in front of our headlights like a bad horror-movie strobe effect. There one second, gone the next. I strained my eyes outside the window, and finally saw my vaunted luck. It was a tall African, waving his arms to get us to stop.

The leader.

You’re kidding me. About time.

“Brett, see if we can help that man out.”

He grinned and pulled over. Our target ran to the passenger window, shouting something in broken English. Knuckles slid open the side door and stepped out. The Nigerian glanced toward him, saw his wig and running black face paint. He drew back, confused and alarmed. I followed Knuckles and the man backed away, preparing to sprint. Knuckles hit him with the Taser, dropping him like a sack of dirt.

We heaved him into the back of the van, Knuckles keeping the juice going while I stabilized him. Knuckles slammed the door shut and Brett called the dismounted team. “Retro, Koko, status.”

Retro said, “I got her. I’m with her, but the thugs are still following. They’re blocking our ability to get back into Toi. You want me to escalate?”

Meaning, Can I draw my weapon?

I said, “Negative. Let’s see if we can’t get you out clean.”

Brett hit the gas while I flex-tied the leader, his head rolling left and right. I pulled out the manila envelope from under his shirt, a flip phone and notebook spilling to the floor of the van. Jackpot. Knuckles readied a syringe and the target began flopping up and down, like a fish trying to get back into the water. I used my weight to hold him down and Knuckles hit him with the sedative. He thrashed a bit more, then his eyes rolled back into his head.

Brett slammed through the intersection, ripping right hard enough to fling us into the side. He said, “I got them, I got them.”

I leaned forward and saw Retro walking quickly with Jennifer, holding her hand like they were a couple. Behind them was a pack of men following like wolves pacing a wounded deer. Lost tourists they planned on fleecing as soon as the hapless couple cleared the area of Toi and entered the outskirts of the slum.

Retro said, “Is that you to my front?”

“Yeah, we’re going to roll right up. Get to us and get in. If they start running with you, we’ll handle it.”

Brett pulled abreast, the headlights on the group thirty meters away. Jennifer broke into a sprint, with Retro right behind her. The thugs were surprised for a split second, then began to give chase, two starting to catch up.

Jennifer dove inside, followed by Retro. The door slammed shut and we were gone, hearing nothing but a couple of fists banging the quarter panel.

Brett swerved onto the main road in front of the mall, and I got smacked in the shoulder by Jennifer.

“Call if I’m in trouble? Call if I’m in trouble? Really? That’s why I called.”

I said, “Hey, I knew Retro had your back.”

Knuckles said, “Don’t blame me; I tried to get him to help.”

I said, “What? In the hotel you said I was on the verge of compromising the mission because I thought Jennifer might be in trouble. Now I’m at fault for letting her work it out?”

She muttered something and I turned to Brett, telling him to get rolling toward the support crew in the storage garage. I started to call Blaine, then paused, saying, “Everyone listen. No matter what Blaine asks, this went perfectly, okay?”

Knuckles said, “Why?”

Jennifer squinted and said, “What are you hiding?”

All innocent I said, “Nothing. Just tell Blaine it went like clockwork. Trust me, that would be for the best.”

16

Sitting at the long makeshift table, Jacob caught the Chechen and another man studying him. He ignored them, waiting on Ringo’s team to arrive for dinner. In truth, he was growing tired of the constant blanket of Islamic State minions watching his every move, and tired of the so-called instruction they’d received.

Expecting to learn the art of the suicide bomber, they’d done nothing of the sort. The mornings were spent working with the tools of the shahid, but it was nothing like Jacob had been expecting, like from the movies, with detonators and ticking red numbers. They mostly worked with chemicals. Learning how to break a cylinder of glass inside a plastic container. Then how to break the next one. Beyond that, they learned to hide and remove small wooden dowels inside the shell of a smartphone, then hook them to plastic tubing before inserting them into sleeves of clay.